


Till the End of Time

by chinarai



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Zelink Week, zelink, zelink week 2017
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9257717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinarai/pseuds/chinarai
Summary: For Zelink Week 2017 | v: With You: It sure is good to have eradicated Demise.





	1. i. The Beat of Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Aside from my love for this pairing, I decided to take on this challenge to see if I reignite my passion for them - and thus work more on fanfics about these two. I don't know how it will go since I'm marathoning most of the games, but I am giving it a shot anyway.
> 
> Enjoy!

His sense of hearing has always been good, they say. It has always been easy for him to hunt and come back home with food under his arm, to listen to the tune of Ilia’s humming from a clearing away, to find cuccos that escaped and got lost in the forest. Colin, particularly, back in the days when he would hardly stand up to himself and would look up to the late teen immensely, used to say that Link’s hearing was as sharp as an animal’s.

Boy, if only he knew.

In the time he spends shifting from a human to a wolf and on and on, he gets much better at listening to sounds in the distance and actually making sense out of them, listening to the flap of a bat’s wing in the dark of the night and drawing his sword out before it can even approach his vicinity. Maybe he likes to flaunt it a bit, especially to Midna, who once mocked him in the first days they spent together for not listening to the enemies that crept up to them. She has to eventually bite her tongue and agree that he improved, curl her fists and bare her teeth when he will smirk smugly at her and make the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Even now that she is gone, now that peace has returned and he has little to offer to the kingdom, his hearing is still as good as it used to be in his prime days. He moves to Castle Town and in the times he visits Ordon Village, the kids do not invite him to play hide-and-seek anymore, because he is too good and finds everyone so quickly there really is no fun to it. No matter, he reasons, he soon finds out that his ears can help Her Majesty, picking out conversations in the plaza of the town or in the exuberant corridors of her castle. Link becomes quite an asset, truly, to Queen Zelda, as he delivers to her the words her people and her council will not request or say to her face.

Such an asset he becomes, and so important to the matriarch and sole ruler of the kingdom, that their work brings them together and, in a matter of weeks, he finds himself courting her. It is awkward at first, mainly for him; a man from a simple upbringing that used to live in a distant province and was raised herding goats and carrying pumpkins is courting the most influential, important, beautiful, richest and wisest woman of the kingdom. It freaks him out a bit, because for once he is too self-conscious of his past and he has never dated someone before, so Link is too nervous to make sense out of it and realize that it does not matter to her.

He finds out later that, honestly, she can care less if he was raised by wild animals or not. When she smiles at him for the first time, he knows.

Zelda is such a quiet person. Her steps are light as she strides with purpose, her breathing is calm and controlled, every movement is so elegant and so nearly silent it used to be hard for him to find her in the castle when needed, and he never has to ask where someone is; he always knows, always pick out their signature sounds among many others. No longer it is difficult for him to find her in a sea of people with his eyes closed, though, for only one night by her side is enough for him to pick out a sound that is easily recognizable.

The beat of her heart is strong, yet gentle as it pumps blood into her arteries. It slows down to a calm, soothing rhythm at the end of the day when she is curled in bed with a book on her lap and a cup of tea cooling on the bedside table, her fingers gently running over his scalp absentmindedly. The peaceful sound, coupled with her even breathing when she is fast asleep, is a combination that, without fail, lulls him to sleep time and time again. In the mornings, he will hear it over the sound of water as she bathes herself in the adjacent bathroom, and he kisses her sternum when she returns to their chambers, a gesture that she cannot quite understand, but never questions, for she knows he has his own reasons.

She always smiles, anyway, and hooks her pinky finger around his before placing a peck on his lips.

Now, however, a tiny, wrinkled hand is wrapped around the very finger. He watches form the bedside, still as a rock, as the infant wrapped in a bundle of pristine white fabric brings her hand to their face and suckles on it. He does not know what the sex is, does not bother to ask, nor does he really care. Zelda’s eyes are bright and maybe so are his, but none of them shares a glance to confirm his suspicions as they stare unblinkingly at the baby. He snakes a shaky arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, she slumps against him, exhausted, and he sucks in a breath, gazing at the matted, dark hair of his child so carefully cradled in her arms.

The buzz in his ears fade and he hears. Hears the servants that hang around tensely at the other side of the door; hears the medic in the small bathroom washing their hands in the basin; hears the frenzied heart of his wife slow down to its usual steady beat; hears the quick, strong beats of his child’s heart, beating and beating, a sign of a new life.

Link swallows, nods resolutely to himself. He will go to any length to ensure that their heartbeats can always reach his ears.


	2. ii. Discourse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I see the word 'discourse,' I think of that meme - let's call it that - in which the Grinch says "you put your glasses back on and face the discourse." 
> 
> So yeah, I hope this applies.
> 
> Enjoy!

Having connections does wonders to you career, and that is how Link finds himself transferred from the local newspaper of his hometown to a prestigious daily journal of the infamous Castle Town. His previous boss and foster-father is an old friend of Auru, the longtime director of Hyrule Times, who so graciously accepted Rusl’s request and gave Link a position as one of the newest members of his team.

It was an opportunity he simply could not let pass, so he took it, and now he stands by the first row of chairs in the conference room, occasionally brushing back his hair that falls over his eyes. The air-conditioned atmosphere dissipates the slight flush of his cheeks and prevents his hairline from getting any damper, and thankfully, his clothes are not stained with sweat from having to run over the city hall at top speed after waking up late. His companion says nothing as he prepares the recorder of his phone and flips to a blank page of his little notepad, then looks up at him with bluish grey eyes and neatly combed copper hair.

“Is the camera ready? He should be stepping up to the podium any minute now.”

Link nods vigorously and checks the settings of his camera when Shad steps away from him and closer to the seats designed for them. He cannot mess this up; it is the first time he has been given something important to cover, and taking pictures of a man giving his first speech on the first day of the year should not be something so out of the ordinary – had this man not been the King of Hyrule himself. It is the first time Link is to stand so close to one of the members of the Royal Family – it is the first time he is seeing him in person, too; his heart is palpitating wildly.

The hushed murmurs quiet gradually and all the people present in the room sit down as young woman walks up to the microphone, dressed in a deep purple dress, dark hair pinned away from her face. Photographers are taking pictures, and Shad nudges him as he stands up along with the rest, lifting an eyebrow and urging him to do the same. Link fumbles with his camera before he takes the first shot, a picture of her half-turned away that gives him a perfect view of her pearl earrings and pointed ears.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. You may sit, now.” She starts in a monotone, her voice soft as velvet despite its flatness. “I come instead of my father, King Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule XCV, for he is incapacitated with a fever at the present moment. So I, Princess Zelda Nohansen Hyrule XCVI, will be delivering the speech and answering to your questions today.” She hardly twitches a finger, shoulders squared and chin high, chest moving rhythmically as she takes two breaths before continuing. “So without further ado...”

He stops listening after that. It is not easy to forget that the Royal Family still stands, even as Prime Minister Impa is the one that actually runs the government, but it is easy to forget what they look like given that they hardly show themselves to the public eye. Well, maybe it is hard to remember how Princess Zelda looks like, because her father’s face is printed on fifty rupee bills, but she... She looks very beautiful from this close. So beautiful, in fact, that Shad has to remind him twice to stop staring and take pictures, and he does so with little difficulty, taking a moment to appreciate every shot after it has been taken.

“This year, we plan to...”

Damn, she is beautiful. Link wishes he could attend to another speech of hers in the future, so he can actually pay attention to what she is saying, because currently he finds himself too distracted by her long lashes and the shimmer of her lips. Sweet Hylia, he grew up on stories of pretty princesses kidnapped by dragons, and now he has to wonder if all of them are blessed with such good genes.

“I will be answering to any inquiries, now.”

“Your Highness,” Shad quickly stands and fingers the cuff on his wrist as he addresses her. “We would like to hear your plans regarding education.”

Zelda turns to him, a living statue carved out of ivory with piercing blue eyes and soft, round lips. “Ah, yes. We plan to focus on Hyrule University...”

Link brings the camera to his face and uses the opportunity to take a picture while she is looking at his coworker, noticing the curve of her high cheekbones and the faint makeup adorning her skin. The Princess answers someone else next, and another and another, and he is content as he is to capture her from every possible angle. Would it be too creepy if he were to snap a copy of these to himself?

The conference is over too soon and, for once, she shifts her stance, taking a step away from the podium as she thanks everyone for coming and bids them farewell. She stills just as she is turning away, accidentally catching his eyes as he prepares the camera once again, and her lips quirk, possibly at the sight of his slack jaw and the fierce blush that burns his cheeks. On reflex, he presses the button and snaps a picture, a rare sight of one of her half-smiles directed to a stranger completely smitten with her looks. Security dressed in black approaches her whilst she makes her way to the back room, and he blinks dazedly as Shad stirs him out of his reverie and sighs, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“You’ll get used to their beauty before you know it,” he says as he pats his shoulder, and Link looks down at the small screen, gaze roaming over the last photo. Somehow, he doubts it.


	3. iii. The Breath of the Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As recommended by a friend, I've been watching Daredevil this past week or so. His heightened senses may or may not have subconsciously inspired both prompts for the first and the third day. Regardless, I love the idea that Link sharpened his human senses so they could match his wolf form's.
> 
> Enjoy!

Her arms are wrapped around him as Epona slows down to a stop. Her touch is careful, distant; Zelda is still too proper, too conscious of etiquette and rules to forget formalities when around the hero of her people. Perhaps, that is the reason why he snuck her out of Hyrule Castle in plain daylight, dressed her in some clothes he borrowed from Uli – clothes that are rather small for a woman so tall – and rode her away from the busy city and its loud conversations.

“Do you know where we are?” He asks, his tone a mix of all the accents he came across during his journey, still heavily tinged by the Twili that he heard on a daily basis.

Link looks at her from over his shoulder; her face, what is visible of it, is impassive, her lips relaxed in an expressionless line. Her eyes are blindfolded with a dark strip of fabric, stopping her from seeing anything at all. Her shrug is minimal, imperceptive. “The sun is not burning my scalp anymore, and for that I am thankful. That is all I know.”

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, unwinds her stiff arms from around his middle and hops down his steed, taking notice of her rigid pose before he moves in to help her down. Her fingers barely curl around his hand as he guides her to solid ground; she masks a wince as her legs stretch after a long horseback ride, one that was not planned beforehand, and so she went a long way saddleless, similar to that one time when she aided him in taking down Ganondorf.

Zelda does not dare to as much as take a step to follow him as he wanders around. Clearly, she is uncomfortable. She mainly relies on her vision; she is not like him, someone that can pick out every smell and sound that is around him, and so her current lack of sight proves to leave her restless.

“Relax.” He smiles when she turns her head in his general direction, bare hands folded before her navel as if she were standing before her people. “That’s why I brought you here for.”

“Wherever ‘here’ is,” she starts, slowly reaching out ahead of her, hesitant to seem like a fool before him, “I would like to see it.”

“Try feeling it instead.” Link suggests with a shrug of his shoulders and loudly sits down on the grass beneath him with a sigh, reclining against the tree trunk and watching as her lips frown minimally at his answer.

Her hands fall back to her sides and, instead of ripping off her blindfold as he expected her to, she begins to crouch, slowly bending her knees until her fingers brush against the thin blades of grass. Zelda tilts her head, her braid falling over her shoulder, and presses her palm fully to the soil, spreading her fingers wide and feeling the texture, the dampness beneath her skin. Her lips part and move, mouthing words he cannot hear, but he can read. _What_ , she asks herself, inching her touch around herself and exploring the ground.

“When was the last time you actually touched grass with your bare hands?”

She remains quiet for a moment. “A while.”

He snorts. “Really? You have courtyards and a private garden, and you don’t interact with them?” Zelda does not reply, merely turns her head away slightly. Link rises to his feet and walks over to her, gently wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging her upright. “Come.”

“Where to?”

“You’re exploring these woods. Damn, I never thought you’d find this experience so foreign.”

Link guides her over to the nearest tree, places her palm on its bark, watches as her fingertips glide over its rough surface, over every crevice, as if it is something that needs to be deciphered. It is weird, to say the least, to see her so awed by nature. It is something natural to him, to everyone from Ordon, to truly appreciate the trees and the water, every flower and fruit they come across. Different upbringings make different people; Zelda was, most likely, raised to admire everything from afar, with the few exceptions of flowers she is gifted every once in a while.

“Take off your boots.” He does not give her the time to protest, for in the next second he is working on the shoelaces and tugging the pieces away from her, touching her bare ankles in a way that nearly makes her squirm, in a way that is not supposed to be proper. Her toes curls, wriggle as the grass underneath tickles her skin and she tilts her head down as if she can see what is happening.

He smiles. It is sort of endearing seeing her reacting this way to everything around her, and in a hushed voice, he instructs her to calm down, to concentrate on what she can hear and feel, on what she can smell. He is touching her hand now, and her fingers are warm against his skin, holding on to him as she breathes in deeply, fills her lungs with the pure air of Faron Woods, smells the lingering scent of rain. She cannot hear the frog croaking in the distance, of that he is sure, yet her ears twitch when the wind plays with the thick canopy above, swishes the leaves in the breeze. Zelda turns, facing south, and he slowly walks her there, noticing when she steps over sturdy roots and twigs that snap beneath her feet.

The sound of running water is clear now and he lets go, allowing her to wander around the clearing of the Spirit Spring. When she walks into the water, she halts and shivers, her goosebumps visible to him even from afar. Zelda walks further in, until she can touch and feel the cool water that falls over the edge of the suspended pond. Dipping the water into the liquid that originates from deep within the woods, she inquires. “Where are we?”

Link is next to her in a moment, his eyes tracing over her parted lips, hand reaching behind her head to undo the sloppy bow that ties the blindfold in place. “We’re where I grew up in.” Her lashes flutter and her eyes open, pupils shrinking as light reaches them and she sees the forest ahead of her differently.


	4. iv. Hazardous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, maybe, the one that took me a while to figure out. I couldn't think of any canon events that I could write about, so I wrote this based on a fleeting idea I had and referenced one thing or another. This is an AU.
> 
> Enjoy!

Everything rumbles around him, beneath him. A boulder narrowly misses his body, still flaming hot from the volcano fire, and his bloody fingers clutch desperately to the jagged mountain side, breathing hard against the stone that he rests his forehead on before continuing his climb. Sweat drips down the curve of his chin and he rubs his cheek on his shoulder once more, trying to wipe away the dried blood on his skin, and tries to find purchase, feeling the steep under him with his worn out boots.

A rock juts out from the wall and he desperately moves towards it, wincing as his skin breaks further and more blood seeps out. He heaves as he falls facedown on the flat surface, fighting to catch his breath, fighting the tears that burn behind his eyes. The young man brushes back his long locks of blonde hair with the heels of his dirty hands, wishing he could tie them back, but his injured fingers prevent him from doing much. He cleans his wounds with a splash of water from his canteen, takes a sip and stores the rest. There is no water here and it will take him a while to come across some more.

He looks at the way he came, at the forest in the distance that he had to battle his way through. It rendered him torn clothes and scratches on his arms and legs, and face as well, from where thorns, twigs and sharp teeth and blades from monsters cut without mercy. Mud caked the top of his boots and dug itself under his fingernails, where now it mixes with the blood that steadily drips from his fingertips.

He stands up and turns to face the mountain. There is no time to waste, and every muscle of his body scream at him as he resumes his journey, but he can already see the peak from where he is, and the sight of it fills him with hope that he will survive this. His legs are shaking and threatening to give out under his own weight, yet he pushes forward, trudges away from the precipice to a place where he is shielded from the falling boulders. He turns around, sees the faint outline of the village he grew up in, the forest that he always believed to know like the back of his hand, but once a greater destiny was entrusted into his hands, it kicked his ass; he sees Castle Town, which seems to be a little darker than the rest of the kingdom, shrouded by mist and covered by ominous black clouds that swirl around the highest tower of the castle, now inhabited by an usurper king.

The man licks his chapped lips and turns away from it all, resolute in moving forward to the one thing that might grant them all salvation. If what he has been told by the elders and the spirits that inhabit the woods is true, then the both of them can save their realm before it is too late. Therefore, he takes one step after another, until the hard ground beneath him transitions into a grassy plain, and he travels up and down hills and slopes until a vast lake enters his line of vision.

A hiss leaves his mouth as he dips his wounded hands into the cold water. It is the middle of the night and whatever he knows about constellations and using them as a guide is not enough to keep him on the right path, so he knows that it is divine intervention that helped him get this far. He drinks from the lake greedily and washes his face, trailing a hand down tiredly; exhausted as he is, his body does not acknowledge that he has not had a proper meal in a day, or more perhaps. Still, he stands and walks into the water, grinding his teeth as it feels like he is being submerged in ice, and swims ahead. His breaths condensate as he raises his head to exhale, and he keeps everything from nose down carefully underwater for most of the trek.

By the time he reaches a small island in the center of the lake, his limbs are numb, his fingers are quivering desperately, and his teeth will not stop chattering. Cupping his hands, he brings it to his face and blows into them, rubs them together, crosses his arms and bends at the waist in an attempt to regain some warmth, but the wind is blowing, biting into his wet skin, and he staggers away from the shoreline towards a hole in the ground that has been his destination all along. The fall is graceless and hard; his knees bend awkwardly and he slams his side onto the cavern wall, but down here is much warmer than on the surface and he allows himself a time to catch his breath.

The path he follows is steep and dark, but there are no twists and turns to delay him. It seems there is light at the end, but the more he walks, the more he feels it gets distant. He tries to run, once or twice, and stops before he collapses for good; he is stubborn, though, and that is a good thing, because minutes later he reaches the cavern and finally he falls to his knees. With sagged shoulders and mouth hanging open as he tries to catch his breath, he is glad he will live to fulfil his part of the prophecy.

She is kneeling in the center of the room, head gently turned down, her long, silky locks of hair shimmer under the glow from the flames on the walls, flames that do not originate from common fire. She is pale and dressed in white, a golden circlet adorns her head, and she is unperturbed by the six other people circled around her, heads bowed down, hands joined in prayer. Each of them represent one of the major races of Hyrule and, together, the seven of them were dormant waiting for his arrival.

He stands once more, feeling some of his strength returning to him, and walks to the middle where she remains in knelt down. He mimics her stance, hesitates before taking her hands in his own, because his are so dirty and hurt and calloused, and hers are so clean and soft and fragile – but his fingers wrap around hers anyway, and she rouses from her sleep, the mark on the back of her hand pulsing steadily as it comes in contact with his own.


	5. v. With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late. I wanted to update it after I came back from watching the Assassin's Creed movie, and before the Nintendo event, but my internet decided to die and so I never got to post this on time and didn't watch the direct with everyone else BUT BREATH OF THE WILD LOOKS SO GOOD
> 
> Also, this might be my favorite so far
> 
> Enjoy!

The sky has never been this clear, he thinks, and maybe that is just the lingering feeling of victory and relief that dances inside him, but he is sure it has never been this blue, not even when they lived peacefully above the cloud barrier. The air is fresh, the breeze is cool on his skin, and ahead of him, all he sees is green, varying shades of the color stretching on and on.

It sure is good to have eradicated Demise.

Days have passed since it ended for good, since he was imprisoned inside the Master Sword and it was laid to rest, returning Fi to her endless sleep. Headmaster Gaepora comes to visit every two days, and Groose occasionally comes down to the surface as well, though less frequently. He tells them stories of the people from Skyloft, some of which decided to venture on the world below once or twice, and laughs with them, but it is easy to see the way he misses Impa, whom he befriended over time.

Together, the two of them build a hut by a body of water. It is small and simple, with a room for each, a shared bathroom and an average-sized common area. Link spends most of his day patrolling and Zelda stays at the temple, where she has begun a new routine of continuously praying by the Pedestal of Time. When together, they work on their small crop and talk about their day over dinner, but the conversation never lasts for too long, for now life is uneventful and they rarely interact with other people.

It takes some more weeks before some sky-dwellers decide to try a new life in the surface. They pack their things, say goodbye to their Loftwings, and they help them build their new homes. They are so awed by it all; sometimes, Link forgets he was not born and raised in these woods, for they feel so familiar to him. He knows the Kikwi so well that it feels like they have always been a part of their life.

One night, he is looking over the maps he acquired during his journey. He opens one that depicts the layout of the Sandship and flips the pages of his worn-out sketchbook to look for drawings he made himself related to that particular place. It is a habit he formed during his journey, perhaps to maintain some sort of normalcy while he learned of his fate as Hylia’s Chosen Hero and had to endure many trials to prove himself worthy. He just wanted to be an average man, back then; good, but not spectacular, and instead, he was thrust with a bigger responsibility in his hands.

He laid his hands on some watercolor, once when he had to return to Skyloft to make some purchases, and after that he started coloring his drawings, painting every page in colorful stains, most of which were more vivid and bright than dark. It is truly beautiful down here, and he is glad he got to see it all. He saw everything Faron Woods has to offer, he saw the many earthy, yellow and red tones that paint Eldin Volcano, and he got to see Lanayru Desert as it is and as it was when grass and trees and crystalline water covered the province.

Link traces his fingers over a sketch of Fi. He does it often to commit her to memory, because the sound of her voice has already started to fade from his mind, but he wants to remember her face at least.

“Do you want to leave?”

With a startle, he lets go of his sketchbook and it closes upon hitting the tabletop. Zelda is leaning on the doorway, a basket of vegetables and flowers trapped between her arm and her hip, looking at him with undecipherable eyes. He looks down at his maps, his lap, and wrings his hands together beneath the table. He has considered it many times already, but never acts upon it, knowing better than to just leave everything behind and seek the thrill of adventure once more.

“I would like to see what else is here to see,” he starts, licks his lips, presses his palms flat on his thighs. “But...”

“You can go.” She says softly, stepping away from the threshold and walking further into the common area, headed to the kitchen counter. Zelda deposits the basket away and starts arranging the carrots on a neat, little line. “I, above everyone else, would understand it if you find it too difficult to stand still.” She moves to the side to get a clay pot that rests on the corner and places the flowers inside. “That’s why you take daily walks around the forest, isn’t it?”

Yes, and it does not surprise him that she knows him so well. He keeps looking out for danger, even though it will never come. Not in this lifetime, anyway. “Yes... I’ve grown used to... Exploring.”

She looks at him from over her shoulder. “Then go. There’s much to see, I’m sure.”

He takes a deep breath and looks up to meet her gaze. “And I’ll just... Leave you and everyone else behind?” It hurts him a little to see that she thinks he can leave them, and her in particular, so easily as if they do not mean much, but... He would think thrice before choosing to leave even Groose behind. He and his pompadour grew on him.

“Everyone else, yes, but we can always visit.”

Link stops, furrows his brows. For a moment, he does not think he heard right, but she has turned around and is facing him, her hands on the counter supporting her weight, her eyes almost... Expectant.

“Do... Do you want to go with me?”

There is a beat of silence that follows his hesitant question, and everything falls in place in his head. All the times she asked him about what he saw, for more details of the places she went to, but never could venture much further into them. All the times she asked about Lanayru Desert and the Earth Temple, and the places he went to after she sealed herself away in an amber crystal. All the times he overheard her speaking to Groose about the Imprisoned, to the Kiwki about the flood, to Faron about anything, really...

Zelda, perhaps, wanted to leave and explore more than he ever could.

“Yes,” she says, her smile blooming beautifully on her face. “I want to go with you.”


End file.
